it would be fun to be in a play again,

this time wearing,

not a flowered kerchief,

but maybe…maybe…

a black headband?

Amazing

It’s amazing how just one thing

said by just one person,

in the middle of just one conversation

on just one regular day,

can start a person wondering things

she had never wondered

before.

Signing Up

“You’re kidding,” Lizard says,

when I’m five minutes late on Friday

to meet her at her locker after school

because I was signing up on the audition sheet

on Mr. Delgado’s door.

“I think it would be fun to be in a play,”

I say, keeping my voice light and cheerful.

“You and everyone else,”

Lizard says,

as if it’s a bad thing to want to do anything

lots of other people want to do.

“I probably won’t even get picked to be in it,”

I say.

I don’t know if I’m trying to reassure Lizard

that she doesn’t have to worry I might actually

do something without her,

something she didn’t decide for us both to do,

or if I’m trying to prepare myself

not to be disappointed

if I really don’t get picked.

Either way, Lizard’s face brightens.

How to Make My Mother Very, Very Happy

Tell her that you’re auditioning for Alice in Wonderland.

When she asks if this was Lizard’s idea,

tell her no, it was your own idea.

Add that Lizard didn’t even sign up on the audition sheet.

Smile when she says,

“Oh, Betsy, you’d be perfect as Alice!”

Keep smiling when she says,

“Maybe this will be the year you start to bloom!”

(unlike third grade, fourth grade, and fifth grade,

when your lack of blooming

was somehow Lizard’s fault).

Don’t stop smiling even when she says,

“When are the auditions?

Maybe we can get you a couple

of voice lessons first.”

Just remember how good it feels

to see your mother smiling,

and to know she’s smiling

because of you.

But the Smile Doesn’t Last

The very next day

my mother makes Moroccan chicken for dinner,

after a long day working in her office upstairs.

(She works on Saturdays and Sundays, too,

because dying languages don’t stop dying

on weekends.)

But just like last week with the beef bourguignon,

she doesn’t eat the Moroccan chicken

with my father and me.

And on Sunday,

she doesn’t eat the asparagus risotto with us,

either.

Moroccan chicken and asparagus risotto

don’t taste as good

when the person who made them

is upstairs in her bedroom

with the door closed.

Auditioning for a Play Is Much Scarier Than Shots, Dogs That Bite, or Worms on a Rainy Day

It’s scary having to tell Lizard

not to wait for me after school on Tuesday,

because that’s when I have my audition,

and seeing her toss her head